


and he was mine, he was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, he was mine.

by angelcult



Series: noncontober [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anal Fingering, Animal Metaphors, Extended Metaphors, Fingerfucking, Guilty Bill Cipher, Hurt Dipper Pines, Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov References, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Step-Father Bill Cipher, Step-Son Dipper Pines, Symbolism, Unrequited Lust, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelcult/pseuds/angelcult
Summary: Bill is left to keep watch over Dipper while his mother and sister are away, and his unforgiving eyes wander and drown on forbidden skin.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Series: noncontober [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947919
Comments: 3
Kudos: 106





	and he was mine, he was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, he was mine.

**Author's Note:**

> First day of noncontober!! I think it’ll all be billdip but for now, I’m unsure, just mind the tags!

He’s dancing around in the garden, tiny shorts and bare feet, all wild hair and long limbs.

Sixteen but he looks fourteen, he’s got his mother’s doe eyes, her good genes and smooth skin, baby-soft in the glint of the setting sun, hips swaying to the music that plays in his head.

Bill can’t help but watch, he can’t help but watch the way Dipper’s hands slide over his sweaty skin in a way that’s so innocently _delicious._

He makes himself sick, watching his wife’s son dance in the yard, but it’s so hard to take his eyes off of him, off the way he tosses his head back and laughs, the way his cheeks flush pink, how his long, faun-like limbs twist and kick up grass.

True to form, he doesn’t even know or smell the wolf.

Yellow eyes watching every twist and turn, tongue licking fangs, teeth begging to be sunk into such soft and supple flesh, ripping flesh from bone, making his death cries sound like he was in the gripping throes of orgasm. 

Bill pried his eyes away when Dipper threw himself to the ground carefreely, limbs starfishing outwards, his too small shirt sliding up to show his tanned and still soft stomach. His shorts were all bunched up, thighs just begging to be kissed and bitten and bruised up with blood and splotches of purple and red. 

He has to look away. 

Not even fifteen minutes later, Dipper is prancing into the house, dirt smeared on his cheek with grass in his curly hair and a smile on his face.

“Have fun?” Bill asks, like a _respectable_ adult, not like someone who wants to just pin him to the floor and take him until he’s satisfied and Dipper’s body is ruined. 

“Yeah,” He’s still breathless, he smells like outside and sweat. “When are Mom and Mabel getting back?” He asks, turning to Bill and now that he’s this close, Bill can see the creeping of lace from beneath the top small shorts.

Dipper’s been stealing Mabel’s underwear for a while, but no one ever batted an eye, chalking it up to weird twin closeness and exploration of his own body. 

Now, it felt like a tease.

“In two days time.” 

Dipper nodded, lifting up his shirt to wipe at his face, and Bill couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping down, taking him in, so close, so delicious..

He looked away, biting his lip harshly before he straightened up.

“Well, go ahead and get cleaned up, I’ll order out for dinner.”

Dipper smiled. “Okay, Bill! Can we get pizza?”

“Yeah, peppers and pineapple, right?” He asked, like he hadn’t memorized everything about this boy.

“Yeah! Thanks!” He walked off and Bill’s eyes followed his ass out of the room. 

* * *

Dipper was asleep just two rooms away, and it burned Bill up inside knowing that he’s so close, and they’re alone, and if he was to go in there right now, no one would hear, no one would _know._

He rolled over on his side, ignoring the pulsing between his legs, hating himself but not being able to resist the urge to just tear his stepson apart. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy, full of dreams of tan skin covered in bruises, soft moans and hazel eyes.

* * *

The next day, Dipper eats pancakes for breakfast and despite being _sixteen,_ he manages to make a mess with the syrup, so his fingers and the fork handle are sticky.

Bill watches out the corner of his eye as he pretends to read a book as Dipper sticks two of his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of the sticky and sweet mess, the way his little pink tongue slips between his fingers.

He drags them out of his mouth and his tongue chases the sweet taste, no doubt only the taste of his own skin being left behind.

The fork is next and Bill’s never been so jealous of an inanimate object, watching his tongue sweep across the metal and between the prongs, carefully until it’s all gone and Bill has to force his eyes back to the page lest he do something he can’t be forgiven for.

Dipper cleans his dishes and skips away, another pair of tiny shorts that hide nothing, skin on display, wearing a tiny crop top made from an old shirt and Bill wants to sink his teeth into his skin, wants to make him _cry_ and _beg_ and all the things Dipper probably doesn’t even know he wants. 

* * *

It all comes to a head in a few short seconds.

Bill can remember exactly how it happened.

Dipper had been up in his room, and he’d ordered out again because he couldn’t focus enough to cook and he’d rather not burn his wife’s house down because he was too focused on not fucking her _son._

The food had arrived earlier than expected, and Bill was sure it would put a little smile on Dipper’s face (growing boys and all), but he was surprised he wasn’t outside in the yard dancing.

The only other logical place he could be was in his bedroom, and as Bill is approaching the light beneath his door is enough of a giveaway, paired with the shuffling he can hear being so close to the door.

Opening the door, he’s expecting to see Dipper jumping around in his bedroom with his headphones on, in skimpy clothes but what he finds is _so much better.._

Dipper gasps and jumps, trying to cover himself up with his tangled covers but he can’t quite grasp them and Bill’s already seen enough—

Plush thighs straddling a pillow, pink lace panties that barely hid his hard cock, darker where he was leaking and his pretty flushed chest.

Bill practically _heard_ his resolve snap, seeing Dipper so vulnerable and desperate like a little slut. 

Bill stepped into the room and Dipper scooted back on the bed.

The wolf’s cornered the deer, the little _faun,_ he’s got his eyes on him, his teeth are bared and he looks _hungry._

He’s out for blood.

“Bill-“ The sound of the door shutting behind him is enough to make Dipper stop talking, choosing to whimper instead.

His eyes flicker between the door and Bill, but it seems that he knows he won’t make it.

Bill gets to the side of the bed and grips the edge of the cover, pulling it off of Dipper slowly, exposing inches of skin to hungry eyes.

He’s shaking, he’s so scared he’s fucking _shaking_ and Bill can only lick his lips when the real treat is on display.

He isn’t hard anymore, his thighs are pressed together like he’s trying to hide but this close, Bill can see everything, and god, what a sight it is.

Bill reaches forward and grabs Dipper by the ankle, dragging him closer and that’s when the fighting starts.

He kicks at him with his free leg and he hits Bill in the nose and another time in the mouth before he’s able to successfully grab his other leg and yank it harshly, making him yelp in pain. 

“Let me go!” He’s yelling now, how _cute,_ as if there’s anyone around to hear him. He starts to squirm and slap at Bill, swearing and hissing like a pissed off cat, and Bill is honestly impressed with some of the things he’s saying.

“I’ll tell my mom! I’ll fuckin-“ Bill didn’t mean to hit him, he _didn’t,_ but even he had to admit how fucking bad that would be for him if Dipper told his mother.

“No, you won’t.” Dipper glares at him out the side of his eye as he climbs onto the bed, letting go of his ankles to quickly straddle his waist, pinning his arms to his sides with his knees.

“You won’t tell her a fucking thing.” The skin on his cheek is already darkening, his little faun is so fragile. 

Dipper turns to look at him head-on, eyes hateful and angry and hurt, and Bill’s expecting some scathing remark but instead Dipper _spits_ at him, just daring him to hurt him again.

Bill doesn’t take the bait, instead he wipes the spit from his face and leans in, grasping Dipper red cheeks, pressing down on his jaw to force his mouth open.

Dipper squirms, trying to fight it, and Bill just tightens his grip until he stays still and he stares into those beautiful hazel eyes as he spits into Dipper’s mouth, watching disgust and outrage fill his eyes.

Bill quickly slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Swallow it.” 

Dipper shakes his head and Bill uses his other hand to pinch Dipper’s nose closed. 

Hazel eyes widen in confusion, and Bill watches him as he tries to wrestle his way from under him even though he’s completely pinned, and now he can’t _breathe,_ so he’s just wearing himself out more and more until finally, Bill sees his throat move and he lets him go.

Dipper gasps, coughing and gasping as he inhales too fast, eyes tearing up.

“Where’s your lube? I know you have some.” Dipper looks away, he’s still shaking. 

“Bottom drawer, under my pants.”

Bill smiles at him. “Was that so hard?”

He climbs off of him, expecting Dipper to try and run while his back is turned, but he finds the lube as promised (along with a few compromising toys) but when he turns around, Dipper’s just where he left him.

His fight burnt out so much faster than Bill was expecting ( _or maybe,_ Bill thought, _he just fucking wants it._ ) 

It’s so easy to slide his panties off and admire him, his thighs and his cock- even though it’s soft and he’s clearly not aroused, it’s so hard to not want him so much more now that he has him.

He hates himself, he wants it so bad.

He forces Dipper’s thighs open and the sixteen year old tries to close them again, but when Bill digs his nails into his skin, he catches the drift and keeps them open next time.

His little hole is pinker than it should be, _red,_ and now that he’s focusing, a little swollen. A smirk curls onto Bill’s face and he looks at Dipper, whose eyes are closed like he’s trying to hide inside himself.

“Did you touch yourself here?” Bill asked, pressing a lubed finger against him but not pushing in, he wanted to hear Dipper say it. 

Dipper is quiet, and Bill is sure he won’t answer for a moment until finally, he gives a barely there nod.

“What was that?” Bill asks, and Dipper’s brow furrows, pain, anger, so many emotions in that one little change in his expression. 

“...yes.”

Bill smiled and rewarded him by pushing a finger in, he was so warm and _still wet_ inside, and it was so easy to fit another in right after.

Dipper was biting his lip now, obviously embarrassed to be enjoying it, but his cock was twitching back to life and Bill could see the way his hips would twitch.

Bill leaned over him as he fingered him, fingers pushing in deep, watching Dipper’s face as he crooked them up, and there it was, the reaction he was looking for.

He tensed, eyes pressing together harder and his teeth sinking down into his plush bottom lip, trying to breathe through the pleasure and not make any noise.

Well, they couldn’t have _that._

He pistons his fingers in faster, not always hitting his prostate, but every now and again that was the _only_ place he hit, and it was enough to startle a moan out of him, and once they started, they just didn’t stop.

“No- no, I don’t-“ He grits his teeth and shakes his head, mussing up his hair and Bill can’t believe how fucking delectable he looks trying to pretend he doesn’t want it.

Bill can only watch, he’s so hard, _so fucking hard,_ and Dipper is just making it so hard to resist.

He could fuck him right now, he could, but his mom comes back tomorrow and there’s no way he’d be recovered by then.

He’ll have to settle for what he can get.

_“Ah, oh god, I fucking- I hate you, I h-ah-ate you..!”_

As he moans his lament, his eyes roll back, his hips grind down for more, his body speaks the truth his mouth can’t. No matter how much he says “no”, Bill knows that he means “yes.”

Hell, maybe he doesn’t, maybe he doesn’t want it, but that just makes Bill’s cock twitch in his pants. 

All it takes is one more hard thrust of his fingers and then Dipper is clenching down around his fingers and arching his back, shaking through an orgasm, while Bill keeps going, watching his body grow oversensitive, made to stay on that painful edge until he’s got tears running from his eyes.

Bill quickly undoes his pants and leans over Dipper’s tired body, nudging his cock against Dipper’s hole.

He starts to panic again, thinks he’s going to push in, but Bill shushes him, and he’s tired from an orgasm, it’s easy to placate him even as he cries softly beneath him.

Bill reaches down, and he’s leaking so much already, touching himself makes him hiss through his teeth as he grinds into his fist, the head of his cock nudging at Dipper’s hole every time he thrusts forward.

He presses kisses to his neck even though he wants to suck and bite, but he can’t leave marks.

Bill moans softly, pressing hard against Dipper, only pushing in a little as he cums, unreasonably pleased as it spills inside the boy. Dipper jerks beneath him, whimpering.

He doesn’t even know when the boy stopped crying.

His little faun looks a right mess when Bill pulls away, shuffling back from him to observe the now defiled flower. 

His stomach is covered in his own mess, legs splayed open wantonly, red scratches on one of his thighs, and between his legs, Bill’s cum leaking out of him.

He looks like sin personified, a creature of divine beauty made to make men fall to their knees in reverence. 

“Go get cleaned up.. Tell your mom you got into a fight.” He touches Dipper’s bruised cheek and he flinches.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Bill gives him one last look, he wishes he could take a picture, but he doesn’t, instead he climbs to his feet and he gets dressed.

“Dinner’s downstairs. I’ll warm it up. It’s just some Pad Thai, that’s your favorite, right?”

Dipper nods and Bill smiles, and he hates himself but he loves the mess he’s made of Dipper, his little faun.


End file.
